


Lure

by bloodandcream



Series: The more the merrier [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bloodplay, Bondage, Double Anal Penetration, Double Penetration, Knifeplay, M/M, Murder Kink, Serial Killers, Threesome - M/M/M, Underage Sex, Weecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 03:42:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2493173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t feel a hot pulse of jealousy every time a greasy, overweight, balding middle aged man leered at his brother, touched him like he was communal property, leaned into his space and whispered filth in his ear. It made the violent rage swell and whip into a frenzy inside him, and he loved it. Loved the way Sammy played them, with feigned innocence and naivety, and he was just so good at it. Dean hated watching men that thought they could lure his brother away, but he loved watching his brother lure bad men closer for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lure

Sam was adamant at first that everyone Dean killed had to be a bad person, had to have done something wrong, hurt someone. He wanted proof, wanted physical evidence so he could know for sure. Cause Sam was still trying to make sense of things. Dean figured he didn’t care so much if the people were bad, not so much as Sam cared that he was good. But Dean could show him, that you didn’t have to see the badness someone has wrought to know it’s in them. You can see in their eyes, see in the way they smile, that they’re rotten in the core.

Sam cared less and less every time, and Dean figured that it was less about the vics getting what they deserved, and more about Sam getting what he wanted. But Dean liked giving his brother what he wanted, like to see the smile that Sam only gave him when he dragged a vic back into their motel room or he picked Sammy up for a drive into the country with someone bound and gagged in the trunk. There was something dirty and dangerous in Sam’s smile then, and Dean knew his brother would grow up to make him proud.

He always let Sam watch, ever since the first time when Dean was sixteen and he pummeled a teacher to death with his bare fists for touching Sam, Dean always let Sam watch. Because his brother would lick his lips and palm his small cock into hardness while he watched. Because Sam liked to climb in Dean’s lap afterward and lick the blood off his face. Because that’s what Sam wanted, and Dean could never deny him anything. It was easy to keep doing, when the urge to violence itched under Dean’s skin, the desire for that raw sort of purity when you held a person’s life in your hands, when Sammy only made him want it more for the wild look in those hazel eyes. It was easy, to run away in his father’s car after they dumped his body in a lake, to live on the road with his brother warming his bed.

It wasn’t long until Sam wanted to start catching vics with Dean. Sam was barely sixteen and still with baby fat in his cheeks, as tall and lean as he was growing to be, there was softness still to Sam, to his body at least even if his mind was sharp enough to cut into the deepest places of Dean. He let him though, let his brother come out, case vics, pick them out of the crowd by the cruelness of their smile and the glint in their eyes.

Dean figured it was easy to find them, cause it was like recognizing his own. It was even easier to find them with Sam. They learned that if Dean stepped back and held his distance, dangled Sam out there like a lure, young and tight with his sweet boy eyes and dimpled smile, they got all the right sort of people coming their way, and it made it so easy to slice them open with how they looked at his brother with open hunger. It made it even more satisfying.

Dean would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t feel a hot pulse of jealousy every time a greasy, overweight, balding middle aged man leered at his brother, touched him like he was communal property, leaned into his space and whispered filth in his ear. It made the violent rage swell and whip into a frenzy inside him, and he loved it. Loved the way Sammy played them, with feigned innocence and naivety, and he was just so good at it. Dean hated watching men that thought they could lure his brother away, but he loved watching his brother lure bad men closer for him. 

There were certain kinds of places they could go to find the vics that they wanted, certain kinds of towns where they would be overlooked. Working down through the backwoods of the Appalachians were good hunting grounds. They had found themselves in a dirty coal town, tucked up in the mountains where no one cared if the whole town was slowly dying, and it was full of mean, hard people with their heads down and their shoulders bowed from life.

Dean had found them a motel where the ceilings were water stained and the carpets had holes from cigarette burns. It was a small, squat cinder block building with only a handful of rooms. The desk clerk barely spared them a glance, there weren’t even any other cars in the lot. It was quiet, removed from the road, no security cameras to be seen, so when they hunkered down Dean figured it would be a good place to hunt.

He was stashing weapons around the room, restraints, all the things they’d need to have their playtime here at the motel while Sam took a shower. He was in there for what seemed like forever, humming loud enough to be heard over the squeak of old pipes. After a half hour, Dean banged the door open and leaned against the frame. Sam was showering without the curtain pulled closed, one leg propped up on the side of the bathtub while he was bent over shaving himself, ass towards the door like he knew Dean would come in. They both knew.

"C’mon Samantha, how long you going to take in here?"

"I haven’t had a proper shower in like a week, I need to shave."

"Fucking princess, gonna make yourself looking good enough to eat huh?"

Sam straightened and turned, rinsing the razor off in the spray and wiping his belly, soapy water sluicing off.

"I thought you liked it."

"You know I do. Shit, did you get all your peach fuzz?"

Sam shook wet hair out of his eyes and smiled at Dean, hand reaching lower to swipe over the smooth skin above his cock.

"Yeah De, I got everything."

Dean licked his lips while he watched Sam finish rinsing, turning his head under the spray to get his hair, twisting his lithe body around to show off to Dean. He had started growing thin patchy hair about a year ago, a few whiskers on his face, a little fuzz around his cock and under his arms, eventually a small trail showing up under his navel and thicker hair down his legs. Sam hated it, he shaved off everything, cause he liked being Dean’s boy, being his baby boy. And Dean liked it that way too, liked running his hands up the silk soft skin of Sammy’s toned legs, and licking against every dirty secret place on his boy all smooth and bare.

Rubbing the heel of his palm against his cock hardening in his jeans, Dean jerked away.

"Better finish up and get dressed or we ain’t gonna be making it out tonight."

Sam laughed, that happy little teasing laugh of his, and did as Dean said. Drying off quick and pulling up cut off jean shorts that barely covered his ass, a tight tee that rode up his belly, and old scuffed converse shoes, Sam ruffled his hair and put vaseline on his lips to make them shiny. Dean was just wearing a faded Zeppelin tee under red plaid with torn up jeans. But he wasn’t important in the start of this, the way he looked didn’t matter other than to blend in.

Sam sat with his long bare legs spread and sprawled in the passenger seat of the Impala while they rumbled through town as the sky darkened, looking for a good haunt. Finding a shack of a bar on the far fringes of town past rail tracks and boarded up houses, a few rusty cars parked in front, neon signs flickering, they pulled in. Dean could pass for twenty one, they both had the fake ID’s for it, but there was no way anyone thought Sam was legal. He got in anyway, the bartender rolling his eyes, but money was money.

Dean bought them both beers, something to loosen up, and played a round of darts with Sam while the crowd started to fill in. Eventually he drifted off into the corner nursing a whiskey, letting Sam have the run of the place, keeping an eye on him. His boy was good, unflappable, all brazen confidence and sinuous body language. There were some guys who regarded him with open disgust, other’s that just slid away, but there were those that came in a little closer, and closer still. Like a moth to a flame.

Sam wrangled someone into playing pool, using his big puppy eyes and curling his hand around the pool cue just right. He pretended he didn’t know what he was doing, though he could probably whip everyone in the bar. He got close, all smiles, getting the guy to show him how to hold his stick, how to place his hands, lining their bodies up and pressing against him. Sam bent himself over the table, pushed his ass out, licked his lips and put on a show. Almost everyone in the place was watching him, and Dean watched them.

The two of them didn’t need to stand next to each other, didn’t need words, to communicate.

Dean didn’t like the guy at the pool table. He was as slimy as any they ever took down, but there was something about him that raised Dean’s hackles in the bad sort of way. Just didn’t feel right. He knew to trust that feeling that said no. So he gave a nod of his head to Sam, who slunk away after his game and found another guy at the bar. This one bought him a drink. Dean knew what Sam would order before it came, rum and coke.

He liked this guy better. He had greedy eyes but they were dim and stupid. He had violent hands, circling possessively around Sam’s waist, dirt under his fingernails, pushing up under the hem of Sam’s shirt, fingers pressing harsh into the soft skin of his waist. This guy had the right smile, like he was ready to unhinge his jaw and swallow Sam whole, it was the kind of smile Dean wanted to cut off his face.

He gave Sam the right nod, the go ahead, slapping a few bills on his table and shrugging into his jacket. Sam leaned into the guys space. His hair was lanky and thin on top, stubble along his jaw, clothes stained and tight around the protrusion of his beer gut. His skin was tan and wrinkled from the sun, slivers of scars across his knuckles from hard work or fighting. Sam almost looked soft and pure next to him, clean, hair shining, limbs long and lean and smooth. He laughed and twisted his lips on the rim of his glass just so, curling his fingers around the shape of it, body leaning against the guy.

It didn’t take long until the man was standing, swaying slightly, hand around Sam’s waist still tugging him up and pulling him along. Sam went with it, following the guy outside, getting into his car. Dean flipped up the collar of his leather coat and made his way to the Impala. He pulled out of the lot some distance behind the others, keeping space between them. The guy’s car swerved every now and then, the driver either drunk or distracted by Sam, and Dean doubted he’d notice a tail. Sam led them all back to the motel.

Dean kept his space, didn’t want to spook the vic, let Sam take him inside to their room. He made sure to sweep the area, see if there were any other patrons, anyone loitering outside, but the dark gravel parking lot was empty and there were no lights on in other rooms. It was quiet and still, only the chirrup of crickets in the dark. Dean made his way quietly to their room, slipping inside the unlocked door. The guy already had Sam pushed up against a wall, beefy hands holding Sam’s wrists above his head, slobbering on his neck. Sam was squirming and turning his head away. Dean slammed the door behind him.

The guy let Sam go, turning around startled. “Who the fuck - “

Sam pushed him and wriggled out from where he was pinned against the wall, stumbling into the open space of the room. Dean lunged. Though the man was drunk he was heavy and thick and he managed to get a few swings in against Dean, both of them crashing against the wall, then the night stand, then the floor. Rolling on top of him and bringing his fist down against that smug ugly face, Dean punched him several times till he went limp. Standing and heaving his body up, hauling him onto the bed, the man was disoriented but not unconscious, struggling weakly as Dean pulled out the rope he had stashed and started tying the man’s arms down to the legs of the bed frame.

Sam snagged another length of rope from Dean and started tying down the man’s legs. When he started babbling and cursing, Dean shoved a bandana into his mouth. The two of them made quick work of restraining him, ropes pulled tight, his limbs splayed out.

Dean was on one side of the bed holding a knife, Sam on the other. His pants were unbuttoned and slipping off his hips. There was a flush on his cheeks and his belly was moving rapidly with his breath. Goddam he looked good flustered like that. Dean licked his lips as he caught his brother’s attention, holding the big bowie knife out across the bed towards him. Sam’s mouth went wide in an ‘o’, eyes huge, reaching up and taking the knife from Dean. It looked like he just got the best present in the world, and that made Dean’s ribs clench a little tighter.

"I think it’s your turn baby brother."

"It’s, for me, really?"

"Yeah Sammy, you been doin so much of the work, doin so good, why don’t you take this one."

Sam was around the bed and pulling him down into a fierce kiss, cold flat blade of the knife pressed between them. His brother was almost up to his shoulders by now, getting bigger and broader and tougher by the day. It was time for him to have his first kill, he was strong and cunning and so hungry for it. Dean could see it in him, that clawing violent needing thing in his core trying to tear it’s way out.

"Yeah De, yeah, I’ll do good. Can I have fun with him?"

"Course baby boy, you do whatever you want to."

Sam bit his lower lip, nodding, eyes flicking between Dean and the man bound on the bed before he pressed another eager kiss to Dean’s lips, open mouthed and sloppy, then flung himself on the bed straddling the man’s waist.

Dean licked the sweet taste of coke and the slick of vaseline off his lips, palming himself as he watched Sam slip the knife under the vic’s shirt and slit it up to his throat. The man was broad, belly curving up, and hairy, dark curls from his neck down past the waist of his pants. Sam pulled the tip of the knife down his chest in swirling patterns, leaving red welts but not breaking the surface, not yet. He rested a hand on the man’s stomach and leaned over him, twirling the knife tip against a nipple, pushing it into the skin over his sternum and cutting a line down from chest to navel. It wasn’t too deep, but it wept red easy, welling up before spilling over the edges, seeping into the thick hair over his skin.

Sam smiled and pushed his hand over the man’s chest, playing in his blood and using it like finger paints. Dean shrugged out of his jacket, his plaid shirt, pulled his tee over his head and plunked down on a chair next to the bed, unzipping his pants and lazily stroking himself while he watched his brother cut a stranger. Sam was looking between the vic and him, eyes hopeful and searching for approval, making small little slices into the fat of the man’s belly and bringing the knife up to lick while he adjusted himself on the man’s lap.

Sam giggled suddenly, grinding his hips down purposefully, wicked glint in his eyes when he looked at Dean.

"He’s hard. He’s enjoying this."

"Well that’s no wonder, I’m sure enjoying it too."

Sam set the knife down and pulled his t-shirt off, flat planes of his chest and stomach all lean muscle, ribs showing through the skin when he reached his hands above his head, jut of hip bones above the waist of his jean shorts. He squirmed on the man’s lap.

"Why don’t you take his pants off Sammy?"

Sam picked the knife up again and used it to cut through the thick tough fabric of the denim, roughly slicing and pulling off the man’s pants partway. His cock was hard when Sam pulled the jeans away, kneeling between his spread legs. The man was trying to pull at his restraints, brow covered in sweat, eyes dilated wide, looking every part the panicked prey caught in a trap it knows it’s not making it out of.

Dean stood and leaned over the bed. “Jesus look at that tiny thing. No wonder he goes after young boys, maybe he thinks you’re tight little ass won’t know how pitiful this is. But you know, don’t you Sammy?”

Dean pushed his jeans down, thick cock in his hands demonstrating his point.

Sam nodded and chewed his lip. “Yeah De, fuck, that’d never be enough for me.”

"You know sometimes I wonder if I’m enough for you."

Sam looked affronted, “You are, of course you -“

"Sammyyyyy", Dean drawled the sound out, crooning sweet, this was his ‘I’m going to explain something to you so don’t interrupt’ voice. "You’re such a greedy boy, I know you, I only wanna give you what you need. I bet, that you could take both of us."

Sam’s eyes widened with comprehension, shifting on the bed, and Dean could see the outline of his erection in those tiny shorts. “I could, yeah I could, do you want that De, wanna feel me stretch even tighter around you, I want that.”

Dean reached out and pushed his fingers through Sam’s messy hair, cupping the back of his head, where the hair curled at his nape. His baby brother was insatiable, but Dean was just as hungry as him. For more - more violence, more intensity, more speed, more Sam, more everything.

He moved to find the vaseline where Sam had set it on the bathroom sink. Bringing it back he flung it towards Sam who caught it out of the air. The guy on the bed was looking between both of them, trying to scream and plead around his gag, blood dripping down his sides to stain the pastel floral sheet. But his little cock was bobbing between his legs, interested in the proceedings whether he was or not. Sammy was still growing into his body, boy prick getting long and thick, and Dean knew it wasn’t done. This guy wasn’t even as big as Sam, probably only about half what Dean was. If that. Dean still hurt Sam sometimes if he went too fast too hard, fueled with adrenaline, encouraged by Sam’s hips eagerly fucking back against him the same time his pretty hazel eyes cried. Dean was gonna be careful with this. He told himself that.

"Get yourself opened up on him."

Sam nodded, scooping his fingers in the vaseline, smearing it on the man’s cock and reaching between his legs to slick the rim of his hole but he didn’t even push a finger inside before he was straddling the guy’s lap and sinking down on him. Sam grunted and squirmed a little, hands flattened on the man’s belly, rolling his body from his shoulder blades to his hips, bones pushing out against skin like bird wings and spine curling serpentine.

Dean crawled up on the bed between the man’s legs, watching his dark cock disappear up into Sam’s pink little hole, pert buttcheeks spread wide and Dean reached for his hips. Holding on to his brother, Dean lifted him up and pushed him down, controlling his pace, easy enough to manipulate his small brother and use him like that.

"Can you even feel that in you?"

"S’maybe as much as yours fingers, s’not enough, c’mon De, c’mon."

"Uh-uh, you’re not ready yet baby boy, but I’ll give you a hand."

Dean snagged the discarded tub of vaseline from the bed where it sat next to the bloodied knife, smearing it on his fingers. He stilled Sam, pushing him down all the way on the man’s cock and pushing him forward with a hand at the small of his back between his dimples. Dean rubbed a thumb against the tight stretch of his hole, pushing a finger up alongside the hard cock there, sliding into his brother’s body and tugging at the rim as he pulled it away from the cock and stretched Sammy out. He could see Sam start twitching his hips like he wanted to fuck himself on it but Sam held still for him, whimpering and arching his back.

He took it so well, Dean was slipping another finger inside, turning them around to curl them towards him, pulling at the smooth slick walls of Sam’s insides, thrusting in and out languidly, rubbing at the rim with the calloused pads of his fingers. Sam moaned just how he knew Dean liked and begged him for more. Dean was so focused on Sam’s slutty little hole swallowing up his fingers he didn’t notice till he looked up that Sam was running his hands up the man’s chest, scratching at the wound he made where the blood had congealed so it would start to seep again, rust red crusted in the cuticles of his fingers, smeared up his arms.

Dean pushed a third finger in and nudged Sam’s hips, making him rock onto it, fucking Dean’s fingers and the stranger’s cock, whimpering. Dean pulled his fingers out, picking up the knife to slice the rope around on of the man’s legs, pushing his thigh wider to scoot up between them. The vic started to thrash and try to kick out. Dean sliced into his leg, deep and long, smacking a hand over it and pushing his leg wider.

Slicking up his cock with vaseline he lined up behind Sam, his brother sinking down on the stranger’s cock and going still, looking over his shoulder at Dean. Kissing the ridge of his shoulder, nipping at his neck, Dean rocked his hips and slid his cock along the crease of Sam’s ass, teasing him, before he pushed Sam forward. Sliding halfway up the guy’s cock, Sam leaned down and braced his hands on the bed. Dean pushed his cockhead up against the rim, still so tight, pushing a finger underneath and bumping his cock up into the small space. Sam pushed himself down against it, popping the tip past the rim and freezing. Dean nudged in a little deeper, holding Sam still by the hips, clench like a vice and muscles spasming around him. Kissing the back of Sam’s neck, Dean murmured pet names and praises in his ear before thrusting in to the base and pulling Sam down, his baby brother screaming and gone taut under him.

Dean’s grip was hard on Sam’s hips, holding him down, sunk all the way in alongside another cock. Sam’s face was turned halfway round towards him, shiny track of tears down his cheek and lips gone slack.

"Baby boy, shhh, baby you’re doing so good."

"D-d-de, fuck, I, I-"

"Shh, you’re good baby, I got you."

Soothing his hands up the soft sides of Sam’s body, stomach quivering and the expanse of his chest heaving in and out rapidly with his panicked breaths, Dean started to move with slow small motions. He circled his arms around Sam, one broad hand coming to press against his lower belly, below his navel, and Dean could feel them inside his brother, feel that foreign hardness straining against the too taut skin of an underfed body. When he pressed there, against the bulge, Sam keened and shuddered, rocking his hips.

"So good for me Sammy, so good."

"Oh god, oh god."

"That feel good?"

"Yeah, yeah, fuck."

"S’hurt too much?"

"Not - not too much."

Sam panted and gulped down air, one hand covering Dean’s over his belly, head fallen forward before he got his breath under control and lifted himself up on his knees to sink back down.

"Fuck baby boy."

"I’m good De, will you, can you -"

"Yeah, I got you."

Dean held Sam with an arm curled around his waist and started to fuck into his body with long smooth thrusts, sliding along the stranger’s cock and pushing up into that velvet heat, sharp snaps of his hips sinking deep, and it wasn’t long till he felt a burst of hot wetness inside, come trickling down out of the stretched pink rim of Sam’s hole, the stranger spent inside him. The guy was sobbing, his thigh trembling under Dean’s hand where he still held him down, slick with blood from the cut.

Sammy was moaning and sinking his fingernails into the man’s chest, body taut and drawn, shining with perspiration. Dean stilled momentarily, finding the knife, leaning over the stranger’s body and bringing both his hands around Sam’s sides. He brought one hand up to snag one of Sam’s, pressing it to the man’s chest, on his left side a little over his heart.

"Feel this here Sammy, feel his heartbeat."

"Yeah."

"Gotta put it in here, gotta slide it between his ribs."

Pushing Sam’s fingers down, digging to feel the ribs through the fat of the mans’ chest, Dean found him a nice spot where the heartbeat was strong between the spaces of his ribs.

"Right here baby boy."

Sam nodded and pushed his fingers there, between Dean’s, their hands twisted up.

"Right here."

Dean passed him the knife, Sam’s slender fingers curling around the handle, already sticky with blood. Sam lifted the knife and poised the tip right where their fingers were and as he sunk the blade into the man’s chest Dean fucked up into his body hard and sudden. Sam braced himself on one hand, clinging onto the knife that was pushed to the hilt into the stranger’s body. The man’s cock had already softened and slipped out, Sam’s hole loose and sloppy as Dean viciously thrust into him, slick wet squelch and slap of skin loud in the motel room while Sam heaved and twisted the knife around in the man’s chest, pulling it free, dark thick blood pumping out in eager gushes. Dean wet his palm with it and brought his hand down to grasp Sam’s cock, smooth hot slide as he tugged once, twice, and Sam was screaming, coming all over the round hairy belly of the dead stranger as Dean spilled into the rhythmic clench of his insides.

Face pressed to the dip between Sam’s shoulder blades, Dean ran his hands up Sam’s stomach, his chest, blood drying tacky, and Sam was a mess with it. Pulling out and scooting back, Dean pulled Sam to kneel up and push his ass in the air, fingers circling the puffy rim of his hole, come fucked frothy, dripping between his legs.

"Jesus you look fucking wrecked."

Sam was bent over, hands to either side of the body on the bed, looking over his shoulder at Dean.

"Did I do good?"

"Baby boy you were perfect. So fucking perfect. You enjoy your first kill?"

The smile Sam beamed at him was wide and dimpled. “Yeah, I did. Thanks De. “

Dean was slipping his fingers into Sam’s loose body, smearing blood and come into him, spreading his hole wide with two fingers and watching the fluid seep out. Sam wiggled his hips.

"You make me so proud Sammy. How bout we clean up and go get some pie to celebrate?"

Pulling his fingers out, Dean lifted Sam up, guiding him to get his shaking legs over the body and get his feet on the floor, holding him up. Sam stood in the circle of his arms, slender body pressed against him.

"Really? That sounds awesome. I’m fucking starved."

"You sure worked up an appetite. Go take a shower, I’ll figure out what to do with this mess and come join you, yeah?"

Sticky blood stained hands reached up into his hair and pulled him down, Sam kissing him sweetly, nipping at his lip and smiling against him. Once he was steady Sam stepped away and made his way into the bathroom, bloody footprints on the carpets. Dean wasn’t quite as messy as Sam, but he still definitely needed a shower. They could chop the guy up and dispose of him, but, the place was a shithole and Dean didn’t feel like putting the work in for it. Deciding on his course of action, he washed his hands and their supplies, packing everything up and setting it on the table.

Joining Sam in the shower, his little brother was eager to wash him, small hands rubbing soap over his body, scratching through the curls around his soft cock. Sam kissed him under the spray of hot water, always affectionate and sweet after a kill but even more so now, pumped up and riding high on his own work, his own accomplishments, instead of just vicarious through Dean.

When the water ran clear and cold, they stepped out of the shower, toweling down quick and dressing. Dean took their bags to the car and came back with two cans of gasoline. Sam’s eyes lit up when he saw the red cans, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Little fucker was a pyro. Dean handed him a can to spread, letting him soak the body and bed good since it was his kill while Dean splashed gasoline around the rest of the room. He poured a trail out the door onto the concrete to a few feet from the room. The night was still devoid of any other life but their own little world. Sammy came out of the room swinging his can.

"All empty."

Dean passed him a matchbook.

"Wanna do the honors?"

Sam bit his lip and took the matchbook, striking one and lighting the rest with it, watching the flame for a second with greedy wonder before tossing it onto the gasoline trail. The fire caught with a hiss and slid back along the trail into the room, in a few minutes they heard the whoosh of fabric catching light and the open door was glowing with red and orange. Dean hooked an arm over Sam’s shoulder and led him back further to the Impala. They sat on the hood and watched as the flame started to lick out of the door, climb up the curtains, crackling and popping. Dean kept an eye out for the hotel owner or desk person, but he didn’t see or hear anyone but the two of them. They watched in silence for a while before Dean thumped his hand down against Sam’s back, shirt damp from dripping hair.

"C’mon runt, lets get some pie."

"Yeah!"

Sam nodded enthusiastically and hopped off the hood to skitter around to the passenger side. Dean rolled down the windows and cranked the music, Ac/Dc screeching into the night as they drove away from the burning building. Sam was all side glances and toothy smiles and wandering hands the whole drive. Dean slung his arm over the back of the bench seat, Sam scooting in under it. There was a bone deep sense of satiation that had settled warm and low in him, all loose limbed and relaxed. This, this was how it was s’posed to be.


End file.
